


Love Holds No Bounds

by VesuvianPancake



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Major Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV First Person, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-07-25 22:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesuvianPancake/pseuds/VesuvianPancake





	1. Chapter 1

I had known Beckham for the longest time. Ever since we were three. We were so close. We’ve seen each other every day, every month, every year. There was not a thing we’ve done together. We were both so happy. We had graduated 8th grade together. We had graduated high school together. We even graduated college together. I’d say we were pretty lucky. Even luckier now that we’re officially boyfriends. Yeah. I said it. We’re boyfriends. Beckham told me the day before we started our junior year of high school that he was gay. And gay for me, no less. I was bisexual and I really liked him, so it worked out perfectly. We came out to our parents the same night. They were both proud of us. We were happy. After we graduated, we told our parents that we were dating. Again, they were proud of us. After we graduated, we moved into our own apartment, got some well paying jobs… everything was great. At least it was for a while...

* * *

“Ow…” Beckham winced.

I looked over at him. “What is it?”

“My head hurts…” he muttered, resting his head on the table.

“Should I get an aspirin?” I stood up.

He nodded and buried his face in his arms, sighing heavily. I headed to the bathroom to get the aspirin bottle. I was about to leave the bathroom when Beckham rushed in and fell to his knees in front of the toilet, his hand pressed tight on his stomach. My hands trembled slowly and I almost dropped the bottle. I knelt next to Beckham.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Beckham shook his head, taking in a deep breath through his nose. “I feel sick…” he mumbled.

“Like you’re going to throw up?” I asked.

He nodded, swallowing hard. I patted his back gently.

“Beck,” I said. “Don’t hold it in. You’ll make it worse.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. I stayed knelt next to him, slowly rubbing my hand up and down his back. All of a sudden, he lurched forward and vomited into the toilet. I frowned and patted his lower back.

“Let it out,” I said. 

He coughed harshly and started vomiting more. I stood up. 

“I’ll go get some water,” I said. I heard him mutter something, but I don’t know what. I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, then hurried back to Beckham. When I came to the bathroom door, he was lying on the floor, breathing heavily and crying softly.

“Beckham!” I cried and shuffled to his side. I lifted him up a bit, supporting his head on my arm. He looked up at me, sniffling.

“C-Call an ambulance,” he whimpered.

“W-Why?” I asked. I was beginning to cry, too.

“Please…” he whispered. “Call an ambulance…”

I started to panic. I lifted Beckham off the ground and ran to the living room where my phone was. I laid him down on the couch and shakily picked up my phone. I dialed 9-1-1.

“Hello, 9-1-1,” the dispatcher answered. “What is your emergency.”

“U-Uh,” my voice was shaky. I felt the tears stream down my face. “W-We need medical assistance.”

“Describe the situation, sir,” the dispatcher said.

“U-Uh… my- er… my boyfriend, he-” I choked up a bit, but then composed myself. “He was complaining about a headache, and… and after that he started throwing up and it got to be really bad and- a-and he just asked me to call for an ambulance…”

“Where is your current location?” the dispatcher asked.

I told her. She hummed in confirmation.

“We’re sending the paramedics right now, sir,” she said.  “They’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” I whimpered. I then hung up and put my phone in my pocket. I turned to Beckham. He was staring up at me. Oh, those eyes… they always hit me… His eyes were heterochromatic- the left eye was a bright blue and the right was a chocolate brown. I knelt in front of him and pushed his circular glasses up the bridge of his nose. He smiled a bit at me.

“Thank you, Jericho…” he whispered.

“You’re welcome,” I answered, softly taking his hand in mine. His hand was freezing cold… I was so worried… I didn’t know what to do… The only thing I could do was wait until I heard the sirens blaring outside.


	2. Chapter 2

When we arrived at the hospital, Beckham was placed on a stretcher and rushed to another room. I was hesitant, but I followed behind a few nurses. I had to wipe my eyes every now and then. It hurt to see the person I loved the most for the longest time like this. My heart was aching. I knew I wasn’t sleeping tonight. One nurse stopped me in the hallway.

“It’s going to be alright, dear,” she said. “Wait here in the waiting room. I’ll come back and get you.”

I nodded at her. “Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. Er, what is your name? So I can know who to call?”

“J-Jericho,” I answered. 

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit. Don’t stress. He’ll be okay.”

I tried not to look depressed enough to need sympathy. I just headed off to a chair and sat down, breathing shakily. I looked up at the clock and watched the minutes tick by. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Fifteen… twenty… forty-five minutes… an hour and ten minutes… an hour and-

“Jericho?” the nurse from earlier called.

I looked in her direction and stood up.

“He’s awake,” she said. “Come on.”

Slowly, I got up and followed her to Beckham’s room. There, Beckham was sitting up on a hospital bed, leaning back on a bunch of pillows. He didn’t look so bad. When I walked in, Beckham’s eyes widened. Oh, those eyes… they got me every time. I loved Beckham. My favorite part about him was his eyes- one blue and the other brown. 

“Jericho,” he whispered, smiling at me.

My heart leaped. I ran to him and hugged him tight. He hugged me back, patting my back as I started to cry.

“Shh…” he whispered. “I’m okay.”

“I was so worried…” I whimpered.

“I know,” he kissed my cheek. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” he pulled away from me and patted the spot next to him as he scooted over to the side. “Sit.”

I crawled onto the bed and kicked my shoes off. I sat next to him and leaned my head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around me and kissed my forehead.

“I’m okay,” he whispered. “Trust me.”

“I trust you…” I muttered. I looked up at him. “I love you.”

He smiled at me. “I love you, too.”

Little did I know that those were the last words I’d hear from him for a long while.


	3. Chapter 3

After the hospital visit, I walked home. I sat there in the living room doing pretty much nothing but stare at the ceiling. All of a sudden, at around 11:23 p.m., I got a phone call. 

I answered. “Hello?”

“Is this Jericho?” it was the nurse from earlier.

“Yeah, it’s me…” suddenly my heart started pounding. “I-Is there something wrong with Beckham?”

“He… It pains me to say this, I’m sorry. Beckham… has a brain tumor.”

I almost dropped my phone. I felt a wave of panic wash over me. “A-A brain tumor?” my voice was shaky.

“It’s easy to remove, but… I don’t know. Was his health always poor?”

As far as I knew, Beckham wasn’t the most… healthy person. He was skinny for a kid his age. He weighed way less than average. For a long while I just thought he was anorexic. He just had an overactive thyroid and therefore an abnormally fast metabolism. So I would consider his health to be… _ fair _.

“His health isn’t so bad,” I answered. 

“Then why is he so underweight?” the nurse asked.

“Overactive thyroid,” I answered.

“Ah. That explains it. So… right now he’s asleep, but… he said he wanted to do the surgery tomorrow… Would you like to stop by and speak to him before then?”

I started to feel sick. I was worried. Too worried. It was too much for me. Slowly, I started to speak again.

“Y-Yeah… sure…” I stuttered. “W-What time?”

“Uh… how about 8:15 am?” the nurse suggested.

“Of course.”

“Okay. Try to get some rest, Jericho. Beckham will be alright.”

“I-I’ll try. Thank you.” and I hung up. I sat on the couch again, taking in long, deep breaths. I started to panic. What if the surgery went wrong? What he suffers permanent brain damage?? What if he dies during the surgery??? I don’t want to lose him… I can’t afford to lose him… I-I love him… I can’t lose him… not after all we’ve been through together… I just _ can’t _...

* * *

I tried to get some sleep that night. I knew Beck had a secret stash of sleeping pills because he didn’t sleep well at night. I got up from the couch and headed down the hall, tugging on my sleeves anxiously. Every thought of Beckham that flooded my mind prevented me from thinking clearly. I saw the room we shared down the hall and I sighed. At this time, Beckham would be asleep at his desktop or on the floor with a book on his face. I sighed and sat on the bed. I hung my head, covered my ears, and cried. I don’t want to lose him. I can’t lose him. I can’t… 

I just can’t…

I… Oh, God…


End file.
